SF Haps posted this website promoting some nebulous service called “Hipster. All you get is the cryptic tagline, “Something Cool is Coming to San Francisco”.

As if we haven’t beaten this one to death: What is Hipster? Any guesses? I’m going to throw this out there: a community message board for recovering patients of hip surgery.

I suppose if you’re really curious you can sign up for an invite. Of course, there’s no telling what that email will actually be used for. You may just end up hearing from a lot more wealthy Nigerian princes looking to liquidate their assets.

One thing that I noticed right away about the hipsters in Tijuana was that their style was a few years behind that of San Francisco hipsters, who themselves are a few years behind New York hipsters (this is a good thing). LA hipsters are not included because they never know what the fuck they’re doing anyway.

Hoping to buck the trend, this one is carrying around a unicycle. The new fixie, anyone? I feel like it’s been tried before.

Please people, can we stop using these generic words to describe the people who visit/inhabit the Mission? It’s really annoying.

What’s Happened to San Francisco? (mission district)

Reply to: pers-692490589@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-05-23, 1:38PM PDT

When I moved here 10 years ago the City was full of cool, laid-back, smart, fun people. People who liked to hang out, smoke some bud, and do amazing, creative, productive things. Now it seems it is getting to be like everywhere else. People are all about their careers, making money, how people look, and superficiality. Did the housing market drive people away? Is SF just becoming a mini L.A.? Almost everyone over 30 seem to be boring douchbags or insipid, shallow little bitches. Everyone under 30 seems preoccupied with their “identity” making sure everyone know they’re a “hipster” or whatever.

Look douchebag, you stole my bag from delirium last saturday, and unless you really like sweaters, otherpeoples journals, and/ or french philosophy, the only thing of value you got was the bag itslef and my damn ray bans.
Please, keep the bag.
Please, keep the shades.
You can even keep the sweater and the philosophy.

I just want my journal. Please, give me back my journal!
If you have my journal, please email me and I’ll assume you ‘found’ it abandoned a block from delirium after the douchebag who stole my shit looked through my bag and discovered no wallet, cell phone, or ipod.

Just a journal, worthless to everybody on the planet but me.

It’s black, has a bunch of phone numbers on the back page, about half-way full, with some sketches and a black ribbon page marker.